i just got on a party bus. i think i left my belly button at the bar.
I'm not sure, 7-8, the last bit was a rush of at least three blended together. Basically you fucked me so stupid that I can't even recall the number of orgasms.
So you know, I'm making that my facebook status.
hey dude come in here and see how much of my beard i can put in my mouth!
I vaguely remember making out with his tattoo (?) and giving him an awesome massage and then I passed out on his floor. Shrug
WTF YOU SHOULDNT BREAK A SWEAT TAKING A SHIT. MY BODY HATES ME.
I think it's god's punishment for my behavior in Vegas . Lies were told. Angels were defiled. Pools were pissed in
Your lack of enthusiasm for my exciting news of drunken debauchery with an otherwise occupied vagina of one of my greatest conquests yet disturbs me. I'm not happy with you
Am I over stepping my bounds if I ask to fuck in your new bathroom?
It has heated floors
I'm not sure what step "make amends" is, but my phone is on
You declared that afternoon sex will be referred to as "wet naps" from now on
That's too much drama for once a month dick... that's in-house dick drama only
in retrospect i think my mom tried to raise me gay
But can mardi gras accurately capture the essence of my tiny rage?
It began the way the best stories do—with some naïve jackasses in a place they had no business being at.
He was a Cher impersonator. They are the draggest of queens
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